Eternal Love
by OddEnthusiasms
Summary: Jack gets his heart broken, and Angela is there for him, but maybe not just as a friend. PreS2 frienshipesque. Oneshot. XPosted to LJ. R&R!


**A/N:** With all that's been going on with this ship lately, I thought it would be fun to revisit their Season one flirting, but with a slight twist. Let me know what you think! ;-)  
**Disclaimer:** Sadly, sooo not mine.

Eternal Love

For the third time in less than half an hour, Angela watched Jack look up from his microscope and pull his cell-phone from the pocket of his jeans. He would then read the screen and sigh, before shoving the phone back away. Something, she concluded, was wrong.

She didn't even try to pretend her visit to his work-station was work-related.

"Expecting an important call, there, bug boy?"

Jack straightened suddenly from the scope. "You could say that."

"Trouble in paradise?" Angela asked, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

"I haven't heard from Rachel in a week."

"Is that unusual?"

"Seeing as she's spent just about ever other night since we started dating either at my house or calling my obsessively, ya, it's unusual." He came off curlish and derisive.

Angela took his tone - and the snap of his rubberband that followed it - as a sign to back off. "Well, I hope she calls soon," she offered.

"Ya," Jack agreed, "So do I."

* * *

While Angela said nothing when Jack was verbally attacking Zack with sarcasm, the instant they were relatively alone, she pounced.

"Rachel called, didn't she?" She ventured, earning herself a cold, blue-eyed glare. "What?" she exclaimed. "You're wearing the look of a man who's just been dumped."

"His name is Pierre," Jack said. "I had my girlfriend stolen by a guy named _Pierre_. Can you believe that?"

"Oh, Hodgins, I'm sorry," Angela replied, fighting off the laugh she knew was coming.

He waved a hand dismissively. "It was bound to happen sooner or later," he admitted with resignation. "I just thought I deserved to be replaced by someone better than a _Pierre_."

"Don't worry. Rachel's obviously just been wooed by his presumably sexy French accent. In time, she'll come to realize that he's not the great - Pierre's are never that great, trust me - and that you are much better, but by then, you'll be long over her."

"Probably."

"You're not the 'eternal love' type, I take it."

Jack's grin seemed almost secretive. "Maybe I'm just waiting for the right woman."

Angela held eye contact while she thought. "You know what you need?"

"A hug?" he suggested.

She chortled. "No, a drink."

"With you?"

"No, with that skeleton over there." She rolled her eyes. " Of _course_, with me."

"Wouldn't going drinking with me put a cramp in your style?" Jack teased, seeming happier now than before.

"No, but being seen under the glaring lights of the lab, hugging you definitely would," she countered playfully.

"Who said I wanted a hug from you? Maybe I was trying to get an opportunity to feel up the skeleton."

"The ex-soap mummy?"

"Hey, you're the one who made her smile so hot in that facial reconstruction you did."

"Speaking of smiles," Angela said, showing off a a dazzling one of her own. "You don't look ready to kill someone anymore."

"So?"

"So my job here is done," she said, starting to walk away.

"Wait," Jack called, "Are we still on for those drinks?"

In response, Angela laughed and kept on walking.

* * *

The cliched dim and smoky bar made Angela laugh out loud. Well, it _would_ have, if Jack hadn't been pouring out his heart to her. She'd never seen a man get so melancholy with such little alcohol. They weren't even half-way through their first beers when he started to ramble on about his now-ex-girlfriend.

"In retrospective," Jack was saying, "the only thing what's-her-face was any good at was sex."

Angela was worried beer might have come out her nose when she snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. "Just a little too much information, there, Jack."

He took a swing from the tinted bottle in his hands. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Is your boyfriend a useless moron, too? Maybe stolen by a _Sophie_ or a _Jean-Marie_?"

"'Boyfriend' implies long-term, which doesn't happen often with me."

"No 'eternal love' for Angela?" he teased.

"Maybe she's just waiting for the right man," she replied, grinning as she took a drink. "But I've had my share of useless morons."

"Well then," Jack said, raising his beer bottle. "A toast to ex-useless morons."

Angela clinked her bottle to his. "Here, here."

"And good riddance." He took a long drink, emptying the bottle.

"And good riddance," she echoed, taking a mere sip from hers.

Jack stood. "I'm gonna go get another beer. You want one?"

"Nah, I'm good." She watched him make his way from their table to the bar. Her drink was finished by the time he got the bartender's attention. He would be wasted by midnight, she concluded, looking at her watch. Whereas she wouldn't be. Sober was good, she reminded herself. Sober was safe.

"How's your boyfriend's right hook, pretty lady?" The man's profound southern accent broke through Angela's thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm trying to figure out how long I'll have a black eye for if I ask you to dance."

A light bulb went off in her head. "Oh, he's not my boyfriend."

"So how's about that dance?"

She'd only been on the floor with the man who'd yet to play the name game, - which was perfectly fine with her - when they were interrupted.

"Mind if I cut in?" Jack asked, suddenly standing next to them.

"Well if it isn't the non-boyfriend," Angela's dance partner commented, before thanking her for the dance and leaving.

Angela gave Jack a long look, ignoring the music. "Jealous, much?"

"I just got my girlfriend stolen by a french guy, I don't need you to fall captive to a cowboy."

She just laughed, walking back to their table.

"Hey, don't I get a dance?" Jack called, following her.

"Nope." Angela plunked herself down at their original table.

"Why not?"

"Dancing with geeks never ends well," she joked. The conversation from there on flowed surprisingly well, in her opinion. But then again, it took a skill Jack Hodgins didn't possess to botch buzzed small-talk. Probably the _only_ skill he didn't possess, Angela added in her head, but still.

She wasn't sure how it happened. Once minute, she was commenting on how jammed in the tables seemed to be, and the next, he was slowly pressing his lips against hers. It was over as soon as it began, but the kiss left both participants looking flustered.

"Oh, my God," Jack said quickly.

"What just happened?" Angela asked, half-hoping she was hallucinating.

"I just kissed you, and I didn't mean to, and I am so sorry."

Her heart seemed to be hammering somewhere near her throat; it was nearly impossible to think straight. "I'm sure that it was just your subconscious rebelling against how docily you took Rachel breaking up with you. It didn't want you to go down without a fight, but you were hurt, so now you're brain's trying to make you do something to feel even with her."

"Ya," Jack stammered. "That sounds about right."

"Plus the alcohol..."

"Yes, of course," he agreed. "I'm intoxicated."

Angela ran her fingers through her hair. He might be drunk and heartbroken, but what was her excuse for letting him? Maybe sober wasn't as safe as she thought it was. "Let's not mention this again."

Jack nodded. "Forget it ever happened."

"It's our little secret."

"My lips are sealed." Seconds ticked by of relative silence. "Hey, Angela, you don't think that we'd ever, you know - ?"

"No," she replied almost too quickly.

"Me neither," he agreed with the same speed, shaking his head.

She took a deep breath, looked away, then looked back. "I think I'm going to catch a cab now."

"Good idea. You know, just in case..." He let her mind fill in the blank.

"Exactly."

"Well, then, goodnight."

"Ya, Jack, you, too. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Ya, and thanks for being a good friend."

"Anytime." With a smile that counterdicted her widened eyes, Angela left Jack sitting alone at the table. Waiting outside for a taxi, she realized she didn't know for certain what the hell had just happened.


End file.
